The Empty Round Table

Wednesday, June 24, 2015

On June 18, 2015 Claron Everett “Monk” Bailey passed away in
his home in Queen Creek AZ after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in
March. Monk was born on April 22, 1938 in Los Angeles CA. He grew up in Moab Utah and graduated from
Grand High School where he was a four sport letterman. He attended and played football (FB/DB) for
the University of Utah from 1956-1960 and was an All-Conference selection in
1959. After college Monk played with the
St. Louis Cardinals (1963-1965). He also
played one year (1966) with the Toronto Argonauts (CFL). After moving to Long Island NY, Monk played
for several semi-pro football teams including the Long Island Bulls, Bridgeport
Jets, and the Jersey Jays. After
retiring from football, Monk sold medical supplies and later started his own
auto top business. He continued to coach
football part-time and was the head football coach at Floral Park HS and
Plainview JFK HS in New York. He was an
assistant football coach at Bloomsburg University (PA), Bucknell University,
Hofstra University, the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy, New Haven University,
C.W. Post University, Maritime SUNY, Southern Virginia University, Weber State
University, and Dixie State College.
After moving to Queen Creek AZ he was an assistant football coach at San
Tan Valley HS.

After joining the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day
Saints in 1966, Monk was an active member until his death. He had a zeal for missionary work and loved
sharing the gospel by befriending and serving others. He served in several callings in the Church but
his favorite was as the Branch President of the Young Single Adult Ward in
Plainview NY (1999-2005). Monk was a kid
at heart and loved working with the young adults. He loved people, his family and the gospel of
Jesus Christ. He is survived by his wife
Kristine Soltau and his children, Michell Shane (Mark) of Cody WY, Everett
(Robin) of Mesa AZ, Noel Houghton (Tim)
of Aurora IL, Jenielle of Aurora IL, and also by his 12 grandchildren and 3
great-grandchildren. He was preceded in
death by daughter Danielle Gomez, sister Sandra Robinson, and parents Claron
and Sue Bailey.

Friday, April 4, 2014

it will not be simple, it will not be long it will
take little time, it will take all your thought it will take all your heart, it
will take all your breath it will be short, it will not be simple

it will touch through your ribs, it will take all your
heart it will not be long, it will occupy your thought as a city is occupied,
as a bed is occupied it will take all your flesh, it will not be simple

You are coming into us who cannot withstand you you are
coming into us who never wanted to withstand you you are taking parts of us
into places never planned you are going far away with pieces of our lives

it will be short, it will take all your breath it will
not be simple, it will become your will

*********************

Reading poetry has always been a pleasure for me and has become a profound source of comfort during a time of great distress. It has taught me something of the universal nature of sorrow and grief. I know God lives and loves me ; I find great strength in my faith but life is hard and difficult things happen that will break your heart and reshape it into a wholly different organ. While I work on my relationship to my Father and my Savior, who always watch over us, and whose presence I feel in my life, my soul acknowledges and responds to the depth of human emotions found in studying the artistic expressions birthed from the struggle of another on life's journey.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Henri J Nouwen wrote: When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.

I have been blessed to spend time over the past few months with some of those whom God has bestowed upon me as friends. It has been the best gift a loving Father could give for it has offered me love,laughter, and a reminder that it is necessary to make happy memories when we can and that kindness and generosity are not unique to one system of belief

They have sacrificed time and money to be with me and catch up on the good ol' days and reminded me of how over the course of my life God has surrounded me with the people who would help me be a better person.

They remind me of my roots and why I miss NY so dearly, but when I get homesick for them they also help me focus on my goals. And most importantly they love and accept me for who I am and where I am at and I know that because I have such wonderful people in my life that I am supported and lifted up during life's roughest moments.
I Love being "just friends" with so many loving, caring, generous, open-hearted, and , frankly ,darn funny people. And although I don't have photos of all the friends who have saved my life in so many ways you are all embedded in my life.
Thanks friends!

Today I celebrate my family: my parents who have devoted their lives to taking care of us and have the crucible like task of helping their daughter die, my brother who is there for every crisis and keeping us all connected, my sisters who are not likely to be all together again in this life, and especially my sister Danielle who has taught me how precious life is and that love is what matters most. Happy VD sis!

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Eternal
Power, of earth and air!
Unseen, yet seen in all around,
Remote, but dwelling everywhere,
Though silent, heard in every sound.
If e'er thine ear in mercy bent,
When wretched mortals cried to Thee,
And if, indeed, Thy Son was sent,
To save lost sinners such as me:

There is something alluring about the imagery provoked by Kit Marlowe in this verdant verse, a bucolic sweetness touching on a deeply felt passion. The gift of poetry lies in its capacity to extract from our innermost chambers those things which we most long to protect from the eyes of the world. For many years I have believed myself to be too sensible for passion and romance, that a keen mind and fine sense of humor are all that matter, but beautiful poetry has convinced my hard head that I have been hiding that which is most sensitive, protecting it from the mockery of the world because that is so often what the world has offered when I have worn my heart on my sleeve. But the truth I guard so indefatigably is nothing to be ashamed of, despite what my more practical sarcastic self tries to tell me, I am a romantic.

Thursday, October 3, 2013

This is the conclusion to the previous post....
When dinner was finished I remained quiet as we moved on to discussing other things and opted to pick up dessert from a nearby bakery. My emotional state at this time was very much like the finch who slammed itself into a window and lay helpless on the cement walkway. My friends were kind enough to notice and accept this. At one point an arm was placed on my shoulder to reinforce support and awareness of my intensely vulnerable state. I am not one who tends to become quiet during debate and heated discussion, but the dinner conversation had touched on my innermost heartache, as ee cummings eloquently described, "the root of the root and the bud of the bud". I attempted to recover my spirits and when we had gotten dessert and decided to watch a dvd I decide I needed to stay and be a part of the world instead of fleeing and retreating into my own.

When we returned to our point of origin, being my friend's house where we would watch any of a number of movies on a regular basis, I split off from our group and went to place my delicious Italian leftovers in my car. It was dark out but for the undependable streetlight and from the corner of my eye I could see something fluttering and struggling in the gutter. All I could muster was a sort of wailing gasp because it was clear that this mysterious object was not a leaf or really an object at all, but a tiny bird that was unable to properly use its wings to lift off. There was no barrier that could have prevented the flood of grief that burst forth from my lips."Oh, it's dying" I whispered and one of my friends stopped in his tracks. As I watched this little life struggle and feebly attempt to coordinate it's wings in order to take flight my friend approached me with a look of concern on his face. When he asked me what was wrong,as I was clearly trembling and overwrought, I explained there was a tiny bird flapping around and dying in the street. And when he turned to discover where this helpless creature was the little bird was nowhere to be found. All I could think of was this poor bird, desperate and unable to get off the ground would shortly be devoured by either cat or the tires of an oncoming vehicle and I wept. What happened next I will never forget and will forever love this friend for. Sensing my need for comfort I was blessed with a friend who was able to provide a tender moment when comfort was given and received. Moving closer he embraced me warmly placing his hand on my head and gave me the sweet gift of letting me cry on his shoulder. As he spoke words of comfort to me I was able to quickly regain my sensibilities and we moved together towards the house. In that moment I was the bird standing defenseless in the street caught in a maelstrom of sorrows and uncertainties and I was rescued by a brief but pure moment of affection and solicitous care.